


i have eyes and ears and a heart so full

by fannishcodex



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, Swaplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 18:00:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1397299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishcodex/pseuds/fannishcodex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Swaplock AU. Glimpses at Molly Hooper in another life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i have eyes and ears and a heart so full

**Author's Note:**

> Very quick last minute Swaplock ficlet things for #ladiesofsherlock in March.

_first outing_

Molly thought tonight was turning out to be…very interesting. Strange, but interesting. Perhaps she should’ve expected something like this with Ms. Adler’s earlier visits, even if they’d only started last week or so. At first Molly had tried to cite regulation or something or other, but Ms. Adler had been very insistent and charming—more importantly, she _knew_ her stuff, the lab work, her approach to experimentation had fascinated Molly, they’d talked chemistry sometimes, dissections and such, but only that, only such scientifically-inclined talk. Irene held little interest when Molly tried to ask her about, well, fashion, Molly couldn’t miss admiring how well she dressed and styled her hair and wore her make-up.

But now Ms. Adler—insisting to be just called ‘Irene’—had dragged her off to, firstly, observe a new flat she was considering on Baker Street and asking her to share. She and Mrs. Hudson assured her the cat would be all right, and Molly was just registering the fact that Irene had actually remembered Molly bemoaning her landlord’s grudge against her cat, when the police came. Well, just the one, an Inspector Lestrade, and he seemed nice enough, but now Irene and her were sitting side by side in a cab on the way to a crime scene and Molly found she just didn’t understand how Irene’s mind worked.

“Um…so…you’re a…what are you, exactly?” Molly had guessed private detective, but she was fairly certain the police didn’t approach private detectives. So she was at a loss, which led to what felt like her mouth rambling on and on.

“I like detectives. _And_ detective stories,” Irene said with a curious quirk of her lips. “Decided to go into the business myself.”

“But…the police don’t…they don’t go to private detectives first…do they?” Molly looked at Irene from the corner of her eyes.

“Quite right, they don’t,” Irene assured her. “I’m a little more specialized than that, a _consulting_ detective. The police come to me for whatever trifling problems they encounter.”

Molly chewed her lip, trying to manage what she next spoke, instead of saying whatever first popped into her head. “Ms. Adler—”

“Ms. Hooper?”

“Irene,” the pathologist corrected.

“Molly,” Irene acknowledged her with a grin.

“What am I doing here, Irene?”

“Two birds with one stone, Molly dear—I would like someone to share expenses for the new flat with, I would like some sort of assistant in my line of work,” Irene said. “And you were thinking about finding somewhere more pet-friendly, weren’t you?”

Molly gave a slow nod, while Irene’s was more decisive, as if the whole matter were settled.

###

_so call me maybe_

Molly stared. Then frowned. Tried to return to her breakfast. Wasn’t exactly working.

“Let me get you a cab, Madeline dear—”

“Mary—” The blonde slurred, her short hair still astray and aiming a thoroughly besotted smile at Irene, despite the way the brunette was gently but firmly guiding her out the door.

“—this is your address, yes?” Irene fingered a scrap of paper.

“Mmmhmm,” the blonde said, tapping the paper. Tilting her head toward Irene, she added, “And my number too.”

“Uh huh, I really must be getting off to work now, Mary love—”

“Call me?”

Molly didn’t hear Irene answer as she finally got Mary out the door. The pathologist kept watch at the window, and saw Irene at least made sure Mary got into the cab all right.

Irene came back, her movements more brisk and excited. “Lestrade called—”

“And of course your latest ‘love’ can’t at least stay and sleep it off, hmm?”

“Oh, sweet, kind little Molly—”

“I’m not going.”

Irene turned more cajoling. “Surely you can call in sick agai—”

“I’m not going.”

“Are you that turned off by my promptly escorting Marianna out?”

“ _Mary_. But you were closer that time.” Molly sighed. “Just catch me up after work, or during the lunch hour.”

“Very well then,” Irene said, her voice ever so slightly huffy, and stepped out the door.

Days later when a completely sober if still smiling Mary marched her out with bombs strapped to her chest and reminding Irene of the number she’d left, Molly wondered if her flatmate would register the sheer perverse irony of the entire situation (if they lived, that is).

###

_ and it goes on and on _

Molly realized with some detachment that no one lately could chalk her up to that “sweet shy strange little pathologist” anymore. She’d found herself less stumbling over her words and instead saying the first blunt and cruel thing to pop in her head after…after Irene. At least she’d maintained some composure at home with Mrs. Hudson. Which amounted to barely speaking to her at all. The thought had occurred to her, once or twice, to leave, leave the place where Irene’s laughter still rang and the place smelled of her. But she couldn’t entirely leave Mrs. Hudson alone, even if the rest of her had essentially checked out for the moment ( _please let it be for the moment_ ).

At least Molly had moved Irene’s chair into storage.

When the new pathologist joined the lab, Molly first registered the dark curls and pale skin, and the dedication to science, and the way he walked where Irene walked, and Molly found the hate swelling up in her throat at the sight of him. Mr. Sherlock Holmes was not her new co-worker, no, he amounted to nothing more than an intruder in a space she now realized had become sacred to her. The lab was hers and Irene’s.

 _God, I’ve made it into her mausoleum_.

At least Molly’s ire only cropped up in a general irritable nature with Mr. Holmes, rather than something so obvious and even volcanic. Mr. Holmes’ own prickly nature actually tended to cancel hers out, and Molly thought their working relationship was tolerant enough to run as smooth as the bare minimum demanded.

Apparently her higher-ups did not feel the same. After a “talk” with them that amounted to a primary school admonishment to “play nice with the new classmate,” Molly felt cornered. More like herself from before. She felt compelled to hold out an olive branch. Even to paste on a smile.

“I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee.”

Mr. Holmes stood up, and Molly prepared to take him to—

“Black, two sugars, please. I’ll be upstairs.”

Molly blinked, and stared after him. She supposed that he wasn’t just naturally prickly, but did actually respond and reciprocated her irritation. She sighed. Molly additionally supposed “making nice” wouldn’t be this easy. And she finally felt some regret over taking her issues out on her new co-worker.

Molly couldn’t bring herself to entirely mess with his coffee, or not bring it at all—but bringing him a hot chocolate instead was the worst…it was…god, she wasn’t even sure what was the point of the entire thing anymore. Maybe it was just she decided to have a hot chocolate herself and couldn’t be bothered to get what he said, whether he was dead serious or not, or somewhere in between.

In any case, Molly and Mr. Holmes quietly drank out of their cups of hot chocolate, with no comment over the absence of coffee.

What Mr. Holmes said instead was, “Never seen you smile before.”

Molly put on a bright voice to match the earlier smile. “Oh, well, I haven’t felt up to it for a while, but now—”

“You’re still not up to it.”

And there was another little reminder of Irene, that certainty that seemed out of nowhere but implied some logical justification, and for once Molly did not feel an irrational hate swarm up and make her see red. She was just curious to hear his reasoning.

Molly mused to herself that she had never seen Mr. Holmes look awkward before as he fidgeted under her stare.

“It’s…obvious, really....”

“Obvious how?” She pressed him, waiting for some long rapid-fire explanation like—

“Obvious that the smile…is strained, false, that’s all, I don’t think you could fool anyone with it.”

And Molly did not feel disappointed by the small stumbling explanation. Not like Irene. Not Irene. Just…Sherlock.

###

_wasted heart_

Molly wondered if she should not have written off her first gut feeling as irrational. The memory of she and her husband’s bad start returned to her as she watched the way Sherlock held the gun over a still wounded Irene ( _you hurt her you hurt her_ ) and how he confirmed his guilt. She felt dizzy. She felt sick. It was worse than the morning sickness. ( _Ohgod._ ) She worked her hand into the fabric over her still-flat enough stomach, twisting the shirt until it felt like it would tear. ( _Ohgod, the baby, the baby._ )

The shocked, terrified, and devastated look on Sherlock’s face meant nothing to Molly as she revealed herself, not in the face of her pounding head.

She slapped him once. Twice. The third time she’d felt skin break underneath her painted nails.

“ _How dare you_ —”

“Let’s finish this at Baker Street—” Irene said, one hand reaching up to Molly’s shoulder.

“Hospital,” Molly and Sherlock said, and Molly flashed him a glare, her eyes watering, while Sherlock just looked…empty.

Molly felt Irene’s eyes dart between her and her husband. “Paramedics will meet us at Baker Street.” The slight pleading edge in Irene’s voice, so slight that only Molly could read it, made the pathologist finally accept her friend’s plan.

Though her hands shook and her throat felt thick, Molly took Irene’s shoulder and half-carried her out. (She couldn’t bear to look at Sherlock now.)

**Author's Note:**

> So, in my Swaplock ideas, Molly Hooper=John Watson, Irene Adler=Sherlock Holmes, Mary Morstan=James Moriarty, Sherlock Holmes=Mary Morstan. I've thought of other characters being swapped, but that may be revealed in another fic.


End file.
